


When It's Over You're The Start

by IBoatedHere



Category: Turn (TV 2014)
Genre: Aliases, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Amnesia, Angst, Assassins, Background Relationships, Bourne Identity AU, Guns, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pining, Slow Burn, Spies & Secret Agents, Temporary Amnesia, background Abe/Rob
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-08
Updated: 2016-09-15
Packaged: 2018-08-13 22:11:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7987960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IBoatedHere/pseuds/IBoatedHere
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He knows his eyes are open but everything is dark. </p><p>Two men are talking. Maybe twenty feet away but there's an echo. </p><p>He can't understand what they're saying. </p><p>His back hurts right between his shoulder blades and he doesn't know why. </p><p>He closes his eyes and the voices and the pain don't stop.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Guess who watched too many of the "Jesus Christ, It's Jason Bourne" vines? This girl.  
> Guess who is doing a multi chapter fic even though I don't really like them? Also this girl.

He knows his eyes are open but everything is dark. 

Two men are talking. Maybe twenty feet away but there's an echo. 

He can't understand what they're saying. 

His back hurts right between his shoulder blades and he doesn't know why. 

He closes his eyes and the voices and the pain don't stop. 

 

******

 

He sees things behind his eyelids. 

Glimpses and flashes of things he thinks he's supposed to know as a whole. 

There's a boat, different from the one he’s on. Bigger. Fancy. Sliding glass doors. 

There's a gun but he doesn't ever remember firing it. 

There's a hand coming down hard against the side of his face and another curling around his hip, his waist, dragging lightly across his cheek. 

Not the same hand. Not at the same time. 

 

******

 

When he opens his eyes again everything is too bright. 

The men, two do them, young and broad shouldered and wearing thick sweaters are sitting across from him and everything in his body is telling him to get up and run. 

He jerks up but one of the men tips forward with his hand out. 

“Please. You're okay. You're hurt.”

French. He understands it now and he nods. 

“Who are you?”

He closes his eyes and waits. 

An empty hotel room. 

An airplane hanger. 

A stack of money. 

Brown eyes. 

He shakes his head and lies back down. 

“What's your name?” 

He doesn't know. 

 

******

 

Three days later he sits at a table while Gilbert and Alexander feed him hearty stew at a rickety table.

They tell him to go slow, they don't know the last time he's eaten (neither does he) but he ignores them. 

They plucked him out of the water a week ago barely breathing and bleeding from two bullet wounds in his back. 

“It's a miracle you were still alive. I suppose an even bigger one you've made it this far,” Gilbert tells him as he start to clear the table but there’s still some broth in the bottom of his bowl so he holds on tight to it. 

There's a pause in the conversation where they clearly expect him to fill in the details. Any detail but he doesn’t have them. 

He takes another bite. 

His beard itches but he doubts they'd trust him with a razor. 

He's not sure he blames them. 

 

*******

 

“How much longer until we reach land?” He says it in English to his and Alexander’s surprise. 

Alexander’s eyebrows shoot up. “Ah, American.”

“I don't think so.”

“Your accent is very good. But then, I thought your French was as well.” With narrowed eyes and tight lips he asks “you don’t remember anything? Not even a name? A home country?”

Last night he dreamed of a man laughing. He was laughing too. Lips at his neck and a hand in his own. Then blood. So much blood. A white tile floor flooded with it. He had woken with a start and sat straight up. The stitches had pulled but he thinks they're okay, there’s no blood on the sheets behind him. 

“Nothing that makes sense,” he answers in French without meaning to and Alexander frowns. 

“I'm not sure what's going to happen when we dock. Gilbert doesn't seem to want to get the authorities involved. I'm not sure I agree with him. He's talked of letting you stay with him and his wife but….” He smiles tightly at him. “I think you need to see this.”

From his pocket he pulls a small, black object and hands it over.

It’s thin, so thin he thinks he could crush it if he applies too much pressure. 

“We found it beneath your skin at your hip. We thought it was another bullet or perhaps a fishing hook.”

He flips it over in his hands and presses. 

Red text illuminates the wall.

A string of numbers that mean nothing to him.

“Coordinates,” he says softly and looks to Alexander to confirm.

“To a bank in Zurich. I’m assuming the numbers at the end are a safe deposit box. You might want to start there.”

He nods then snaps the object in half. He can remember the numbers. He doesn’t know his own name but he can remember a sequence of numbers he saw for thirty seconds. He turns back to Alex. 

“How the fuck am I going to get to Switzerland?”

 

*******

 

Gilbert’s wife is lovely and wary. 

She speaks too low for him to hear from the guest bathroom. 

There’s a razor and scissors on the sink in front of him. He’d feel better cleanly shaven but opts for trimming it instead of taking it off completely. 

Adrienne smiles at him when he emerges but stands just slightly behind her husband.

“I thought maybe…” he says and then switches to French so she can understand as well. “Might be a good idea to look as different as possible. Until I know.”

She steps out from behind him with a small black duffle bag on her arm and holds it out. 

There are three extra sweaters, a first aid kit, an opened box of protein bars, a thin stack of paper money held together by a paperclip and a passport. Worn around the edges with Alexander’s photo inside.

“I can’t take this,” he holds out the passport and the money. When no one takes them he drops them both back into the bag and pushes it towards Adrienne. “I can’t take any of this.”

“The passport might do in a pinch,” Alex tells him. “If you’re lucky they’ll think you’re just a college kid and one pay much attention to it. They might not even check you. They shouldn’t. There’s enough money for a train ticket and a little extra for an emergency. None of it will mean much if you get into some real trouble. We’re not sure what to do for you if that happens.”

“I’m not sure either.”

He thanks them and leaves with the bag over his shoulder.

He doesn’t look back.

 

******

 

A train is the best option and it’s a pretty terrible option. 

Nearly 20 hours. He’ll have to go through Italy and change trains there. He’s not sure he speaks Italian. He’s not sure he’ll need to. 

Switzerland presents it’s own problems. 

He might be able to get by with French but it would help if he knew German. Maybe he does. 

The woman behind him clears her throat in annoyance when the line moves in front of him but he stays still. 

He apologizes in a mix of French, English, and German. 

“Sorry,” he says as he kicks his bag forward. 

The attendant doesn’t ask for a passport and he unclenches the tight grip he has on the straps of the bag and wills himself to relax. 

“What are you doing in Switzerland?”

“Traveling,” he says in English with an American accent. “Gap year, you know. Trying to get to as many countries as I can. Switzerland is next.” 

The attendant looks uninterested as he taps on the keyboard of his computer. 

“It's just so interesting to see how everyone else lives, you know? I mean, I'm starting to miss home but I'm learning so much. I really feel like I'm finding myself.”

The guy rolls his eyes. He’s probably heard this a thousand times before. He won’t stand out at all if he’s questioned. He hands over a ticket and directions to where the train will depart. 

“Merci,” he says brightly and the attendant waves the next person in line up to the counter. 

 

*******

 

The actual train ride is blissfully uneventful. 

He curls up by the window and puts his bag in the seat next to him but no one sits within five rows of him.

His head knocks against the window a few times before he pulls a sweater out of the bag and uses it for a pillow. 

He sleeps most of the way but doesn’t dream about anything.

 

*******

 

Zurich is beautiful. 

He knows he’s been here before but he’s almost glad he’s getting a second chance to see it for the first time. 

He thanks the taxi driver that takes him from the station to the bank in German and tips him with the remaining emergency money. 

In the bank he barely gets a word out before a fall women in a crisp white button down and pencil skirt nods at him. 

“Right this way.”

She stops outside the safe and and has him scan his fingerprint. He holds his breath as it runs and until it turns green. 

She unlocks safety deposit box 721 then puts it on the table in front of him and leaves without saying a word. 

There's an American passport with his photo in it. 

“Benjamin Tallmadge. My name is Benjamin Tallmadge. I'm 26.”

The rest of the contents look fairly ordinary. A couple of flash drives, contact cases, glasses in a hard case, an American Express with his name on it, and three pieces of mail with his name and address on it.

“I’m Ben Tallmadge and I live in Paris.”

He sits down in the desk chair and tries to feel a connection to any of that information. To remember a birthday, seeing the Eiffel Tower at night. Anything. But there’s nothing there. 

He tucks the passport into his pants pocket and starts to dump the rest of the box into his duffle bag. 

The shelf moves and he lifts it up. 

There's a handgun right on top.

He lifts it carefully, tests the weight then puts it down. 

Beneath it are a handful of passports. All with his pictures. All with different names. Russia, Italy, Spain, Canada, Greenland. The name John Bolton pops up several times. There are stacks of money, different currencies. Dollars, euros, rubles, krones. 

There's a silver band on a thin chain. He holds it up to the light then catches it in his palm. 

There's a 3x5 photo of a sunset over water wedged between two stacks of cash. It's slightly crinkled and on the back written in blocky letters is C & B Brewster. 

B Brewster.

Ben Brewster. 

He looks at the ring again and turns it over and over in his hand looking for an inscription. 

Footsteps outside the door jolt him. 

He slips the chain over his head and grabs the passports and stacks of money and shoves them into the bag.

He puts the gun back into the box and closes the lid. 

 

*******

 

The door is still swinging shut behind him when the teller makes a call.

 

*******

 

He has to get to Paris. 

The train went smoothly enough the first time. He can do it again. 

He's Ben Tallmadge. American.

John Bolton. 

Benjamin Brewster. 

Russian. Canadian. German. 

Which one is the right one? Which one won't get him flagged at a checkpoint? If he uses Alexander's passport and gets caught does that incriminate him? That's the last thing he wants after everything they've done for him. 

He's two blocks from the bank when he feels like he being followed and can't shake it. 

He cuts down a side street and then another and he's lost which direction the station is in but he feels like he can feel the footsteps behind him getting closer and closer.

He ducks down an alley and stops short when he realizes it's a dead end. 

When he turns around there's a man standing there, lead pipe raised. 

There’s no panic when the guy swings. He steps out of the way, waits until the guy is off balance and then strikes. 

It’s nothing to disarm the guy. Or the next two that come out of nowhere, this time with guns drawn. After the men are down he quickly disassembles the guns and drops them to the street.

He looks down at the carnage- three men bloody and barely breathing and wants to run. He only manages to turn around when a woman with dark hair, black jeans, and a black jacket drops down from the fire escape in front of him. 

“You know I could have handled that,” she says as she steps around him and kicks at one of the guys. It looks like he’s stopped breathing. “He’s been following me since Milan but these two….they gotta be just for you. Or they were just for you.” She turns to him with one eyebrow raised then her mouth curves up into a wide smile as she launches herself at him, arms wrapping around his neck. It’s not a threat. He doesn’t feel the need to fight back. “What the hell happened to you? Why didn’t you kill Arnold? Why didn’t you follow the plan? Have you talked to Caleb?”

“I don’t know-.”

“You’re supposed to be long gone by now. We shouldn’t be here at the sametime.”

“Look-.”

“What happened on that boat, Ben?”

“They pulled me from the water.”

“Who?”

“Fishermen. Alexander and Gilbert.”

“What were you even doing in the water?”

“I don’t know,” he snaps. “I don’t know what I was doing in the water. I don’t know what I was doing there or what I’m supposed to be doing now or who these guys are or how I knew how to do that to them? Are they dead?”

“They’re going to be.”

“How could I kill someone?”

“How could you kill….Ben.”

“I don’t know who that is, I don’t know who I am. I have five different passports and I don’t know which is the real one. I don’t know who Ben Tallmadge is or who Arnold is. I don’t know who you are. How do you know me?”

“Ben-.”

“Stop calling me that.” He puts his hands on his head and squeezes his eyes shut. She touches his shoulder and he flinches away. 

“Look at me,” she says then wraps long fingers around his wrists and tugs. “Look. Just look. You don’t know me? I’m Anna. You don’t recognize me?”

He shakes his head. “I don’t even recognize myself.”

“What about Caleb?”

“I don’t know who that is. I’ve never heard that name.”

She stares at him for a moment then presses a hand over her forehead and swears. “Shit. Shit. What’s the first thing you remember?”

“I woke up on a boat. Alex and Gilbert were speaking french but I couldn’t understand it. Not at first. Later I could. I speak a lot of languages. I know how to do a lot of things but I don’t remember learning. I don’t remember anything. Just the boat. Just this.”

She takes a deep breath. “Okay, alright, it’s okay. This is going to be fine. I just have to tell Caleb.”

“I don’t know who that is.”

“You will.”

“I don’t even know myself. How am I supposed to know him?”

She gives him a sympathetic look then snaps to. “You said you have passports? You went to the bank?”  
“Yes. There was a projector under my skin. Alex found it. It lead me here. I broke it.”

“That’s fine. You took the passports and the money?”

“The money, the papers, the credit card. There was a gun but I left it.”

“You left the gun? Ben, you never leave the gun.”

“I didn’t know.”

“Okay, fine. That’s still okay. All you have to do is get to Paris.”

“I have an address. Ben Tallmadge, American, lives in Paris.”

“Good. Get there. Caleb will be waiting.”

“I don’t know who that is.”

“I know but he knows who you are. That’s the important thing. Just get to him. He’ll find you.”

“How do I know I can trust him? How do I know I can trust you? What if you’re just like these guys?”

“Because, if I was just like these guys you’d be dead already. Get to Paris. I’ll make sure Caleb is there.”

“Why can’t you come with me?”

“We can’t be seen together. I’m trying to get out too.”

“Get out of what?”

“Caleb will tell you. He’ll tell you everything. Right now you have to go.”

“How am I supposed to get over the border? What passport do I use?”

“They won’t check for passports. Most check points are unmanned.”

“But they’ll be looking for me, whoever they are. Whoever sent these guys. They tried to killed me so they know I’m here. How do I get out?”

“You have all the money?”

“I only left the gun.”

“Stop reminding me about the damn gun. I can’t believe you did that,” she mumbles under her breath. “Use the money, not the card. Get yourself a car. Buy yourself a ride. A motorcycle if you can. They’re fast and maneuverable.”

“I don’t know how to ride.”

“You do. It’ll come back. Hopefully.”

“What if I get stopped?”

A siren wails in the distance and Anna backs halfway down the alley. “Figure it out like you’ve figured out everything else. I’ll see you.”

He’s almost to the street before she’s calling to him. 

“Ben. The gun.” She looks pointedly at the two lying on the pavement. Always take the gun.”

He grabs one then Anna clears her throat and he picks up the other.

“That’s better. Try to remember that.”

He slides them back together, checks to make sure the safety is on, then puts them in his bag. “Who taught you that?”

She glances back at him over her shoulder. “You did.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Buddy Road Trip! 
> 
> (I didn't mean for this chapter to be this long but someone we all know and tolerate won't shut up.)

There are several motorbikes parked along the street with no one looking after them. He could take one. He could probably get it going without anyone noticing. But what if he can’t? What if he’s struggling with it and the person who owns it comes back? What if he can’t actually ride it? He wouldn’t be able to recover from any of that. He doesn’t need anymore blood on his hands. 

Across the street there’s a guy about the same age as him in jeans, a leather jacket, and a grey beanie, standing next to a black sedan with a rusted bumper. 

He’s talking on the phone in English, his voice getting louder and louder as his sentences go on. 

Ben crosses the street and ends up right in front of him but the guy is too wrapped up in his conversation to notice. 

“Dad…. _dad_ ….I’m not trying to freeload here. All I’m asking is that you send me just a little more money. I know. _I know_ ….I didn’t blow it, things are expensive here. The exchange rate is just….I’m not coming home. You don’t even want me to come home. You don’t want me here but you don’t want me at home, this is the only option. I’d pay you back….fine. Fine. Whatever. I’ll figure something else out.”

He hangs up, slides the phone into his pocket and kicks at the tire of the car.

“What the fuck do you want?” He snaps and Ben is momentarily taken aback. He didn’t think the guy even saw him and really, _what the fuck does he want?_

“I need a favor.”

“Dude, I’m really not in the position to be doing anyone any kind of favor.”

“Twenty thousand.” 

“Twenty thousand what?”

“Twenty thousand dollars. Or euros. Whatever you want.”

“To do what? Look, I don’t know what kind of person you think I am but I don’t…. _sell_ myself like that.”

“No, no, nothing like that. God, I just need a ride across the border into France. I have to get to Paris.”

“So get yourself to Paris. Twenty thousand could get you to Paris and back like, a hundred times.”

“I can’t fly. I can’t take a train. It’s complicated.”

The guy squints at him and then starts laughing. “Okay, buddy, _it’s complicated_.” He starts to walk away and Ben follows after. “I’m not in the mood to be scammed or robbed or whatever. I have no money, nothing to offer you so you picked the wrong guy.”

“It’s not a scam.”

“Right, you just want to give me twenty grand for what, a six hour road trip” Go try someone else.”

“I have the money.”

“Uh-huh. Stop following me or I’ll tell the cops.” He nods up the street to a couple of uniformed officers and Ben grabs the guy by the arm and slaps a hand over his mouth to keep him quiet. He lets out a muffled scream so Ben holds him harder. 

“Shut up, just shut up, please. I don’t want to hurt you, please. I have the money. It’s not a scam. I can show you but I need to let you go and I need you to be quiet when I do. Okay?”

The guys eyes are wide but he nods and very slowly Ben peels his hand away. 

“Quiet,” he repeats. He doesn’t know what’ll happen if this guy screams. His fight or flight instincts have been heavily attuned to fight as of lately. “Quiet.” 

He telegraphs his moves as he unzips the bag and grabs a handful of cash. “Ten thousand now. Ten thousand when we get there.”

“Who the hell are you?”

“It’s not important.”

“What kind of trouble are you in? Are you on the run? Are you a fugitive? Did you escape from somewhere.”

“No questions. You can’t ask any questions. That’s part of the deal.”

“What deal?” He whispers frantically and Ben rolls his eyes. Maybe this guy was a mistake.

“You taking me to Paris.”

“Why can’t you take yourself? You have the money.”

Ben raises an eyebrow. 

“Right, no questions. Of course. Oh my god.”

“I heard your conversation on the phone. You were asking your dad for more money. You need it and I have it.”

“Did you steal it?” He leans in and whispers “is it blood money?”

Ben winces. That’s probably exactly what it is. “Too many questions. You have to make up your mind right now. I can’t waste anymore time.”

“I need to think.”

“What’s there to think about. Twenty thousand. You get me to Paris. Don’t ask any questions, don’t tell anyone where you’re going. Once I get out of that car you’ll never see me again and you’ll never tell anyone you saw me. It’ll be like it never even happened and no one will ever have to know. Only thing is, you’ll have twenty grand in your pocket. Cash. No one has to know about that either.”

The guy’s eyes dart around the alley.

“Come on. I don’t have all day.”

“Alright fine! Okay! Ten thousand now, right?”

“Yes. In the car though.” The officers that were up the street walk by and Ben turns his head. “And give me your hat.”

“My hat? Why?”

“Just give it to me,” Ben snatches it off his head and pulls it down far enough to cover all his hair. “Get in the car and start driving if you want your money.”

The guy repeats _oh my god oh my god oh my god_ all the way to the car but he gets in and starts it.

“I want it in dollars. No, euros. No, dollars. Dollars.”

“Why don't you do dollars now and euros later? Half of each.” 

“Fine,” he says. He has a death grip on the steering wheel. “Dollars now. In the glove compartment.”

Ben opens the bag again and when he guy gets a good look in. 

“Oh god, that's a gun. That is a gun. Is it loaded? Shit, sorry, no questions. It doesn't matter you have a gun.”

Ben sighs and puts it on the dashboard. Then he takes out the other and puts it beside it. 

“Holy shit.”

“Safety's on. I have no reason to use them.”

“Oh man, you are in some deep shit, huh? That's not a question. Just an observation. Shit.”

“Ten grand,” Ben says. He grabs fistfuls of napkins and ketchup packets out of the glove compartment, gives the guy a disgusted look and puts the money in. “Keep your hands on the wheel and eyes on the road.”

His eyes snap forward. 

“Don't roll through signs and don't speed. Don't worry about anything but driving.”

“Can you put the guns away?”

Ben puts them back in the bag, zips it, and stores it at his feet. 

“Better?”

“Yes.”

“Do you have a name?” 

Ben doesn’t answer. 

“So I can’t call you anything? What if I need you?”

“You won’t need me.”

“What if we get separated and I need to find you?”

“We won’t get separated. We’re not leaving this car.”

“Oh, I’m definitely going to have to go to the bathroom. I’m going to get hungry and thirsty too.”

“It’s a six hour car ride.”

“We could hit traffic. I’m Abe, if you need to call me anything. You know, I could at least know the name of the guy that has kidnapped me and is holding me at gunpoint.”

“I didn’t kidnap you and the guns are in the bag. I’m paying you to do this. If you didn’t want to I could have found someone else.”

“So I’m really not going to get a name?”

“John,” Ben says after a moment.

“Like John Doe? That’s real original. But fine, that’s fine. So, John, what’s going to happen when we get to the border? What if we get stopped?

“Nothing. They’ll wave us through. Most check points are unmanned anyways.”

“But what if they’re not unmanned? You don’t have to tell me specifics or anything but obviously you’re in trouble. Are people looking for you? Will they be looking for you? They’ll want to stop you from jumping countries.”

“No one knows I’m going to France. I could be headed to Germany or Italy or Austria. They can’t put people on every border.”

“But what if they’re at the one we go through? What if they stop us before then? 

Ben looks at the bag between his feet and Abe pales. 

“Oh my god.”

“Last resort. Whatever happens, don’t get out of the car.”

“Okay, but what if they make me get out of the car?”

“Remember when I said no questions or the deal was off? I meant that.”

Abe puts his hands up in mock surrender.

Ben tells him to get both hands on the wheel.

 

******

 

Abe stops at a truck stop 16 kilometers from the border to fill up and grab a coffee and something to eat. It’s starting to get dark out and Ben feels relatively safe in the car slouched down low. 

“You want anything,” he asks. “Water, coffee.” He leans over and grabs a few bills from the glove compartment. “My treat.” 

“I need a map.”

“I have one on my phone.”

“I can’t take your phone with me when we part.”

“You could for the right price.”

Ben shakes his head. No electronics. Nothing that can be tracked.

“Fine. I’ll get you a paper map like it’s 1780. You sure you don’t want to come in? I mean, there’s like, six people in there and they do not look like the kind of people that have any business calling the cops. They probably have warrants out for their arrests. They’re your people! Come on, John, stretch your legs. It’ll only be a minute.”

He could use a bathroom. Change the sweater he’s wearing. Abe could buy him a few toiletries to he could wash his hair in the sink and brush his teeth. It’s only been a little over twenty four hours but after the train ride and everything that that happened in that alleyway with those men he needs it. 

“We have to be fast and you have to buy a few more things for me.” 

 

******

 

No one looks up when they walk in. 

He hands Abe a list he scribbled on the back of a receipt from McDonald’s and they split off. 

Abe heads into the little convenience store and Ben ducks into the bathroom. 

There are showers. They’re disgusting, and Abe wrinkles his nose when Ben tells him he’s going to use them, plastic bag filled with their supplies hanging from his fingers. “I got you a razor, in case you want to shave.”

“I don't.”

_Fine_ he mouths and drops the disposable back into the bag. “Ugh. I can at least buy you some flip flops or something. I can’t believe you’re going barefoot on the floor. I’m gonna throw up.” 

“I’ve been in worse. Probably.”

“What do you mean by probably?”

Ben doesn’t say anything and tugs his sweater over his head, wincing as the stitches pull. 

“Shit, John. What happened?”

“Umm,” he fiddles with the temperature and decides to just be blunt. “I got shot.”

Abe whistles, long and low. “You are in some deep shit.”

“It’s not as bad as it looks,” Ben says as he steps beneath the spray. It’s lukewarm at best and kind of smells like sulfur. “Does it look bad?”

“It doesn’t look good. Did you go to a hospital?”

“No.”

“Deep, deep, shit.”

“Yeah,” Ben sighs. “Something like that.”

 

******

 

It’s only the second shower he ever remembers taking but he’s sure it’s one of the worst. But he does feel marginally better than he did when he got in and the new sweater he pulls on smells clean. His hair is still wet so he leaves the hat off while he brushes his teeth and goes to find Abe who said he was going to grab him a cup of coffee for the road. 

Abe’s standing in the middle of the store looking up at a small TV that’s playing in the corner. 

Ben’s face takes up half the screen. The newscaster and scroll at the bottom both say the same thing. _Suspects name is Benjamin Tallmadge. He could be using the alias, John Bolton. Suspect is believed to be armed and extremely dangerous. Do not approach. If you have any information please call the authorities._

Abe turns slowly with wide eyes. His fingers are clutching tight to the cups in his hands. Ben’s afraid he’s going to puncture the styrofoam. 

Ben ducks his head and puts the hat back on and makes for the exit.

The door doesn't close behind him and he hears footsteps. When he looks over Abe is unlocking the driver side door. Both cups of coffee are on the roof. He gets in without grabbing them and Ben thinks that maybe he’s just going to take off. Take his ten grand and leave. 

But then the passenger side door unlocks and Ben grabs both cups and ducks inside. 

It’s the first time Abe’s been silent and it’s unnerving. 

“You still with me, Abe?”

Abe reaches for one of the cups. His hand shakes as he raises it to his mouth. “So. Ben.” 

“Yeah.”

“Okay. I figured John wasn’t your real name so….” He looks at him from the corner of his eye. “Are you as dangerous as they say?”

“Do you want to find out?”

He flinches. “No, no, not really.”

“Then start the car.”

Abe almost drops the keys in his haste and there’s a clear line of tension across his shoulders and down his arms as he pulls back onto the road. 

“I don’t know,” Ben says softly. 

“You don’t know what?”

“I don’t know if I’m that dangerous. I don’t know anything. Up until a few hours ago I didn’t even know my name. I’m not even sure if Ben Tallmadge is my real name.”

“How?”

“Don’t know. A couple of fishermen pulled me from the water off the coast. I had been shot. I woke up and I didn’t remember anything. I couldn’t even understand them and then suddenly I could. I could speak french. I can speak German and Italian and who knows what else. I can fight. I killed three men in Zurich that attacked me. I didn’t mean to. I have half a dozen passports and all this money and I don’t know where any of it came from.”

“What are you doing in Paris?”

“I met someone who knew me. She told me to go to Paris and meet a man. Caleb. He knows me too.”

“And you trust her?” 

“She didn’t try to kill me. She knew me. You can stop if you want. Kick me out take your money and go. It's up to you.”

“Twenty thousand sounds a lot better than ten,” Abe says. The grip on the cup is still tight. His shoulders are still tense. 

“It's more dangerous now. If you get caught with me, if something happens I can't promise I'll be there to help. Things just kick in when they want to. I'm pretty sure I'm hardwired to look out for myself first.”

“So we don't get caught.”

“The smart thing to do would be to leave me here, call the authorities, and take whatever reward they're offering.”

“I know you don't know me very well but I don't always do the smart thing.”

“No, I understand that.”

“Asshole,” Abe says under his breath. “I need the money and this is the most exciting thing that's ever happened to me. You're not going to kill me, are you?”

“Honestly, I would have already done it by now if I did. I had plenty of opportunities. I mean, those first twenty questions alone.” 

Abe makes a show of rolling his eyes. Ben tells him to keep them on the road.

 

******

 

There are flashing lights up ahead and Abe slows way down.

“What do I do?”

“Keep going.”

“But what do I do when I get there? They’re going to stop us.”

“There’s still time for you to get out.” No one else is on the road. Abe could get out and Ben could keep going and deal with what comes on his own.

“No. I’m in this. Getting out now would look even worse.”

“Just keep driving. Don’t look nervous and do what they say. I’ll take care of the rest.” He fumbles through his bag for Alexander’s passport. He really didn’t want to have to do this. “It’ll be okay.” He takes out one of the guns, clicks the safety off, and wedges it between the seats. It’s there if he needs it. If this all goes to hell like everything else has. 

He sees Abe take a deep breath as he starts to brake but he himself feels oddly calm. Like he’ll know what to do no matter what happens. It’s not comforting. 

There are three officers. They’re young. Two of them have a flashlight raised towards the vehicle and the other is blowing into his cupped hands trying to warm them. Their guns are in their holster at their hips. This’ll be easy. 

“What seems to be the problem, officer?” Abe is going for bright, cheery, American. “Usually I just drive right through. Is something wrong?”

“We need to see ID,” the officer says in a thick accent. The other one holding the flashlight rounds the front of the car, taps on Ben’s window and mimes rolling it down. “From both of you.”

Abe looks towards him but Ben’s already making a show of trying to find his passport in his pocket, like he doesn’t know exactly where it is. The flashlight follows his movements and the officer slides his free hand down to rest at the top of his gun. 

Abe gets his passport handed back to him after a few seconds but the light shines from Alex’s passport to Ben’s face and back half a dozen times before the officer closes it. 

“Can you step out of the vehicle?”

Ben nods and the fingers on his left hand brush the top of the gun as he unbuckles so Abe can see exactly where it is. 

He calls over the other officer and they whisper to each other. 

Getting rid of these two will be easy. He could do it with his eyes closed. But the third one is still standing beside Abe’s door and that’s going to be tricky. He could unholster his weapon, get a shot off, and call for backup in the time it’ll take for Ben to get to him. He should’ve grabbed the gun from between the seat. He should have stuck between his waistband and the small of his back. He shouldn’t have put this much faith in it all being a big misunderstanding. 

One of them raises his radio to his mouth and before he can get a word out Ben has already thrown it to the ground. He uses their surprise to his advantage and after a few well placed and quick blows they’re down beside it. Alive but unconscious. 

The third one has his gun pointed at him but he’s shaking. He’s probably never even fired it outside of training. 

Ben blinks and the cop is on his way to the ground, his head hitting the pavement with a hard thump. Abe has open his door with enough force to knock him down. Then he’s slamming it shut and yelling at him to get in the damn car.

Ben’s halfway in before he’s back out to grab Alexander’s passport and the guns. _Always take the gun._

“Grab his,” Ben says as he tucks them into the bag. Abe is frozen in the drivers seat. “Abe, grab his gun.”

“I can’t. I can’t do that. I can’t steal. Oh god, is he dead, did I kill him?”

“He’s not dead,” Ben says. He pushes Abe out of the car. He trips on his feet but catches himself. 

He snatches the gun from his hand then throws it at Ben who yells at him about putting the safety on. Abe yells back “You think I know where the safety is,” before he throws the car in drive and speeds off so quickly the tires squeal. 

Abe’s still twitching and breathing heavy a kilometer down the road. 

“Slow down,” Ben says as softly as he can. “We don’t need to be pulled over.” The car speeds up. “Abe.”

“I'm fine,” he says, and finally eases off the gas. 

He's quiet for an hour before he speaks. The adrenaline has worn off so Ben's almost starting to drift off. 

“I just killed a guy.”

“He wasn’t dead.”

“He hit his head. You heard it. What if nobody shows up for hours? What if they don’t find him until morning?”

“We can only hope,” Ben says under his breath. 

The car swerves over the center line when Abe turns and glares at him. 

“Do you need me to drive?”

“I’m fine,” he snaps but a hundred yards up the road he slows down and pulls off to the side and gets out. He stands with his hands on his knees and his head bowed in the headlights as Ben squeezes over the center console. He lets Abe breathe and clicks on an interior light so he can see the map. He traces his index fingers round the route he wants then carefully folds the map as Abe gets back in. 

“We should ditch the car. Or at the very least swap the plates out. There had to have been a security camera back there so they saw the car. We might be far enough ahead of them that it doesn't really matter but….we should be getting into Paris while it's still dark so it shouldn't be problem to get another. We can park this one somewhere. Strip it, wipe it down for prints. Maybe we can sink it. I know it's yours but you'll get another ten thousand when we get to Paris so that should help you get another.”

“Paris is a bad idea.”

“Paris is the only idea.”

“You want to go to a major city while there's a manhunt going on.”

“I need to disappear into a crowd.”

“ _We_ need to disappear. I'm a part of this now. Officially. You said there were cameras that saw the car and the plates. They'll know it belongs to me. They saw me get out and get that gun. You said I didn't kill that guy and he saw my passport. He knows who I am. They’re going to be looking for me too. I can’t just slip away from this now.”

“I gave you the option of getting out. You knew the risks.”

“Hey, I rescued you back there. I saved your life and I didn’t even get a thank you. You could learn to be more appreciative in between the killing and the brooding.”

“He wasn’t going to shoot me.”

“He had a gun pointed at you!”

“He was shaky and nervous. No way he would have pulled the trigger.”

“Are you kidding me?”

“We’re going to Paris or the deal is off. I’ll take back the money.”

“You can’t do that.”

Ben regards him with a harsh look and Abe physically retracts against the seat. “Do you want to try and stop me?”

Abe shakes his head. 

“I didn’t think so.”

 

********

 

They park the car in the first vacant industrial lot they come across. 

Ben takes the plates off with a screw driver he found in a roadside kit in the trunk while Abe grabs everything that’s important to him and wipes down the inside with the hem of his sleeve. 

Ben tosses the plates in the gutter and Abe walks beside him, arms crossed and sullen and carrying everything he has in a plastic shopping bag. 

Ben hotwires a jeep he finds parked on the street. They’re out of the glow of the street light but that doesn’t stop Abe from jumping every time he hears a sound. 

Ben gets in the driver side and waits for Abe to get in.

“I’ll leave you,” he says and Abe sighs and climbs in.

“What happens when they report this one as being stolen.”

“We should be far enough away that it won’t matter. We could be in the city by then. We’ll leave this one the same way we left the last one. I don’t imagine we’ll be in Paris long.” 

Abe sighs again and Ben tries to get his annoyance with it under control before he speaks.

“I know you think it’s not a good idea-.”

“It’s a terrible idea.”

“It’s where Caleb will be.”

“You don’t even know Caleb. This could all be a set up and you’re walking the both of us right into it.”

“He knows me,” Ben says. 

“Yeah, but in what way? What if he’s a bad guy? What if you’re the bad guy,” Abe asks, wonder in his voice like it’s the first time he’s realizing it.

“Either way he has information on me that I need. Willingly or not he might be able to help me figure out who I am. It’s the only lead I have. Have you ever fired a gun before?”

“No.”

“Just point and shoot. You’ll be fine.”

 

******

 

They roll into the city just before daybreak.

The streets are still quiet so they don’t have any problem leaving the jeep in a parking garage and setting off on foot. 

“Might be a bit of a hike,” he says, looking at the address on one of the envelopes. “I have no idea where I am.”

“Nothing looks familiar?”

Ben shakes his head. Nothing is coming back. He shows the address to Abe. “I think Caleb is supposed to be meeting me here.”

“How are you going to know if it’s actually him?”

“Don’t know.”

“We are so screwed. Do you think he’ll have food?”

Ben shrugs and walks off in what he thinks is the right direction. 

They’ve been walking for ten minutes when it starts to drizzle. Abe is complaining about not having a hat anymore and Ben is trying to figure out if the man half a block behind them is following them or if it’s just a coincidence. 

Ben takes four left turns to bring them right back to where they were. Abe is still talking and the guy is still following.

Ben hazards a look over his shoulder as they’re crossing the street. He’s in jeans and a black zip up sweatshirt with the hood up. Ben can’t see his face. Not that he would be able to recognize him if he did. 

“Look straight ahead,” he cuts Abe off right in the middle of him saying he really wants to buy a baguette while they’re here. “We’re being followed?”

“What?”

“Shut up and keep moving. Let me think.”

“We should go towards a crowd. They won’t do anything in a crowd.”

There are no crowds. 

Ben follows river then veers off down the one that goes underneath the bridge. The man follows.

“I can’t believe this is where I’m going to die,” Abe says.

Ben shushes him and slips his hand into his bag and feels around until his fingers find a gun. 

When he turns around the guy has stopped just beneath the shadow of the bridge.

He pulls his hands out of his pockets, they're empty, and holds them up. 

"Take it easy," he says, voice low and rough as he takes a few steps forward. He slowly raises one hand to tip the hood back to reveal short brown hair that curls slightly at the ends and dark beard that's trimmed close to his face. 

Abe is standing next to Ben holding the disposable razor from the truck stop straight out like it's a knife.

The guy takes one look at him and laughs. "What the hell are you going to do with that thing?" He bats it out of his hand and Ben steps forward to press the gun against the middle of his forehead. 

He leans into it and raises his eyes to meet Ben's.

They're dark brown and Ben feels like he knows them. Like he's seen them before. Little flashes in his mind only they're never this serious. He sees them with crinkles in the corners as he laughs. He sees them all soft and adoring right before they slip closed in contentment. He knows them. 

Ben's hand shakes for the first time and he has to fight to keep it steady, to keep his arm raised. 

The man smiles at his struggle and says "the beard looks good on you, Tallboy."

**Author's Note:**

> Ignore all plot holes.


End file.
